


Angel In the Marble

by princesspeachspussy



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Connor, Bottom Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Fluff and Smut, Hank Anderson Swears, Love Confessions, M/M, Renaissance Era, Shameless Smut, Top Hank Anderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 08:31:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17936357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesspeachspussy/pseuds/princesspeachspussy
Summary: Hank Anderson is a renowned artist living in 1500's Florence, Italy. His sculptures and paintings are revolutionary, and the Vatican his biggest patron.But all of those breathtaking works have a common muse: Connor Perini. A glimpse into one of the many meetings the two men have in Hank's studio.





	Angel In the Marble

**Author's Note:**

> So...I'm a huge art history nerd. I'm writing a research paper on Michelangelo's alleged homosexuality, and I couldn't stop my lizard brain from going "Hank,,,artist...yes.....Connor?,,,muse...hmmmmmm"  
> I haven't written smut in YEARS and I come back with this. This game really dragged me in.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! :•)

Hank's back was killing him. His hands ached as he stepped back, regarding his newest marble sculpture. He could only see flaws in the stone, but the Vatican was expecting it next month. He wanted to work the way he once had, not sleeping for days in order to produce masterpieces for the masses.

But his age was catching up to him. He couldn't hold the hammer and chisel the way he once had, breaking the angels out of their stony prisons. He panted, setting his tools down. He could use a drink.

Scooping up his sketchbook, Hank wandered out of his studio, onto his balcony overlooking Florence. A city of opportunity and indulgence. A warm, sunny day. Roses snaked around the bars of the balcony, forming a dense shroud, hiding Hank from the people below.

He sat, picking up a wine bottle. Not bothering with a goblet, he took a deep drink, eyes closing.

"That's not very becoming of you." a soft voice came from in front of Hank. He tensed, bring the bottle down and wiping his mouth.

In front of him stood a beautiful, young man. Hank's eyes traced the curves and sharp corners of his face, entranced by the angel.

No. This was no angel.

Despite being God's most beautiful creation, the man chose to straddle Hank's hips, run his hand down the artist's face. Surely Hell was beckoning towards them, but even there they would be together. When Hank had chosen the man as his muse, he never expected their relationship to turn into...this.

" _Connor_." Hank breathed, bottle set down, forgotten. His large hands trailed along the lithe body in his lap. Connor hummed approvingly as he sat fully on the older man's lap, plush bottom tracing circles around Hank's member.

Hank grunted, his dick reacting to the ministrations. But they couldn't do this here, in broad daylight. He forced his hands to still the young creature in his lap.

"Connor, we must wait for dark, that is the rule." Hank ground out, "Sodomy is illegal."

Connor's response was to attack Hank's neck, hips rutting down harder. The load groan that Hank let out only encouraged Connor, and his hand slipped between the two men, gripping Hank's sizeable cock.

"It is six hours to dark," Connor said in a sickeningly submissive tone, "I can not wait. Hank, I need you. _Please_."

A stronger man would have waited, pushed the youth off of his lap. But instead, Hank growled, teeth latching on to Connor's pale neck. The scream of pleasure that the young man let out had Hank's cock filling out more, pressing harshly against Connor's ass.

Connor's breathy gasps grew louder as Hank's rough, calloused hand latched onto the front of his tunic, ripping the fabric is half easily.

"I- I liked that shirt." Connor said, eyes as wide as saucers at the display of raw strength.

"We can go to the market tomorrow," Hank said, pushing the boy off of his lap to strip themselves of their pants and remaining clothes, "Tonight, you aren't leaving my side."

Connor let out a lewd moan at that, eyes sparkling with lust, shining like Egyptian honey. With ease, Hank scooped his lover up, Connor's legs instinctually locking at Hank's broad waist.

There was no time to make the trip upstairs to Hank's bedroom. It had been a week since Connor had posed for him last, and the fire that had been smoldering under Hank's skin was about to be fanned.

Hank set Connor down onto a mess of soft textiles, usually reserved to drape over mannequins, to guide Hank's hand. Connor let out a soft whimper, hands grabbing thin air as he silently begged Hank to lay with him.

Hank was about to appease the poor boy when Connor launched himself up, impatient like only a young man just adjusting to life's beauty could be.   
His pink lips wrapped around Hank's cock without hesitation, eyes trained on the artist's blue ones.

Hank sucked in a harsh breath as his hand came to curl in Connor's soft locks. Hank's head rolled back, sigh escaping. He let Connor take control. Connor sucked his cock softly, getting used to the feeling, pulling back to suckle at the head to get a breath.

His fingers came to play with Hank's balls as he pressed back down onto Hank's cock with vigor, much too zealous, and Hank swore he saw the pearly gates of Heaven when he heard Connor gag around his dick. Hank's fingers tightened in Connor's hair. The boy was trained, knew what was coming, and braced himself on Hank's thighs.

Hank slammed into the willing, wet heat. He focused back on Connor as he thrust roughly. Connor's eyes were still trained on him, fat tears welling up in the corners and Hank throat fucked him.

"You look so pretty like this," Hank whispered, voice gravelly. Connor nodded, opening his mouth more, letting Hank hear the obscene slurping of their sin.

"I should carve this," Hank continued, stilling. Connor whined, looking up at Hank in confusion.

"An angel kneeling between my legs, taking my cock like a common whore." Connor's body shivered in pleasure at the talk, eyes rolling back. Hank could see the young man's dick twitch, precum spurting out.

"I want to see the Pope's reaction when I present it." Hank pulled out of Connor's mouth, strands of spit following. He knelt, pushing Connor's pale chest lightly until he was lying down, Hank's arms caging his small frame.

"I want to capture every tear that rolls down your face as I fuck you," Hank continued, bringing his hand to Connor's mouth. He was taken in willingly, Connor sucking on his fingers like they were the nectar of the gods.

"I want His Holiness to see your cock standing, begging for attention. I want to him to see how your face begs for more, nothing ever fully satisfying you until I pin you down and make you scream."

Connor bucked wildly at that, crying out, sucking at Hank's fingers harder, drooling around them. When he tried to grasp his weeping cock, Hank batted his hand away, growling. Connor immediately went suppliant, still mewling softly.

Hank drew his hand from Connor's mouth, commiting his cherry slick lips to memory. Hank leaned down and captured Connor's mouth, teeth clacking together roughly. Connor keened, hands pulling Hank deeper into the kiss.

Hank felt Connor's hips bucking up in short, aborted movements. The boy was controlling himself so well. He deserved an award. Hank's hand slinked down Connor's body, before the spit got too cold. Connor bit Hank's lip bloody when the older man's thick digit circled his pink hole.

Hank drew back a few inches in surprise when he felt wetness already on Connor's pale inner thighs. His mind circled through scenarios, each worst than the last.

_Did Connor have another lover?_

_Someone younger, more stable?_

Hank was past his prime, and while he was succesful, he knew that young love was fleeting.

Connor tore his lips away from Hank's, biting wildly at the artist's neck, taking Hank out of his thoughts.

"I prepped myself, f-for you." Connor stuttered, hand stroking Hank's grey beard, hips canting down to press himself onto Hank's hand.

"...Only for you." Connor whispered honestly. Hank's eyes snapped up, the ice sending shivers down Connor's spine. Hank snarled, fire reignited. He pushed past the tight ring of muscle, leaving Connor gasping for air. He didn't get the chance to catch his breath before another finger entered him, scissoring his pucker apart.

"You prepped yourself well," Hank growled. Connor gazed up at him adoringly, cock dribbling onto the flat plane of his stomach, hands still looped behind Hank's neck.

"I wanted to be ready."

Those words drove Hank over the edge. He lined up his dick, hands shaking, and thrust home. Connor's scream echoed through the studio.

"So fuckin' tight..." Hank hissed, the velvet warmth encasing his dick. There was no greater pleasure than sinking into Connor. Connor seemed to agree, eyes wide, the tip of his tounge poking out between clenched teeth. Experimentally , the boy ground his hips down, cooing at the overwhelming feeling of being filled. As Connor writhed below him, adjusting to his girth, Hank dedicated himself to mapping every inch of Connor's face and neck. The hard angles mixed with the soft planes, a perfect blend of contrasts.

Hank was broken out of his assault on Connor's neck by a high-pitched whine. He forced his head up, tucking a strand of silver hair behind his ear. Connor had rivulets of tears running down his cheeks, hips griding down on Hank's cock desperately. His bruised mouth gaped open, mouthing incoherent pleas. An angel, debauched, speared on Hank's dick.

The image broke Hank. With a feral snarl he snapped his hips into Connor's wet heat.

Connor screamed, hands falling from Hank's shoulders to grip at the fabric around him, trying to ground himself as Hank's rocks shoved him back and forth rapidly. His hole fluttered around Hank's thick cock, and the older man groaned loudly, lifting Connor's legs until he could rest them on Hank's shoulders, allowing him to slide deeper.

Connor's face went a little stupid when Hank hit his prostate. Hank leaned down, bending Connor in half.

"You are art." A hard thrust had Connor arching himself like the Ponte Vecchio.

"I would take an eternity of damnation if I could hold you in my arms for the rest of my mortal life." Hank continued, thrusts slowing. He reached between their bodies, engulfing Connor's dick in his large hand.

Connor let out a sob, brown eyes staring into Hank's soul. His hips jerked into Hank's hand. They were both so, so close.

"You told me once," Connor said breathily, "That life without love is no life at all..."

Hank hit three deep, languid thrusts before Connor came with a cry, cum dribbling onto his stomach and hitting his chest. His hole constricted around Hank, pushing him over the edge moments after.

As Hank came, he felt Connor's fingers in his hair, and his warm mouth against his ear.

"...And _**I love you.**_ "

**Author's Note:**

> talk 2 me on twitter if ya want!   
> @yokaibunni


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